Chapter 29
Schulz Schmidt.
He possessed the classic aesthetic of a frigid academic: silvery-gray locks and piercing cerulean eyes. Every line of his attire was sharp and immaculate, accented by the monocle resting against his chest.
“I prefer to be blunt, Miss Tulia,” he began.
Schulz Schmidt didn’t pause as he continued his thought.
“I am proposing a mutual agreement.”
“Understood. Let’s proceed,” I replied immediately.
He seemed taken aback. “You’re giving your consent before even learning the terms?”
“A respectable instructor wouldn’t demand anything untoward from a pupil. As a Pneuma, you are a man of integrity, are you not?”
“Your wit is sharp. It seems the accounts of you being a library recluse were well-founded.”
“Naturally. My examination results spoke for themselves, didn’t they?”
A quiet laugh escaped Schulz Schmidt.
Exactly.
This was precisely why I anticipated his arrival.
In the original narrative of , Coriko could never hope to encounter the Crown Prince without the vital assistance of Schulz Schmidt.
However, the timeline had shifted from the game’s established path.
In the original lore, Coriko doesn’t set foot in the Grand Duke’s residence until she is seventeen, arriving as a potential bride. By that point, Schulz Schmidt has already departed from the estate.
Yet, if Coriko managed to charm the Grand Duke and hit a specific affection threshold, a hidden path would unlock: the direct lineage trial. Securing the top score on that exam would draw a curious Schulz Schmidt back to the Grand Duchy just to meet her.
At that stage in the story, his status was already elevated.
He was the Crown Prince’s personal mentor.
Currently, he hadn’t attained that position yet, but it was his inevitable future. I couldn’t afford to simply wait around, though, because Tulia was the biological sister of the twin brothers.
Those two were not only Tulia’s siblings but also potential romantic interests for Coriko.
They were scheduled to arrive soon for the Grand Duke’s birth anniversary.
If I encountered the twins before triggering the Crown Prince’s route, my entire objective would end in disaster.
Failure meant my death.
To avoid that fate, I had used my perfect test scores to win Schulz Schmidt’s favor and secured my standing with Glory.
Up until this moment, my strategy was mirroring the game’s logic perfectly.
But life loves to throw a curveball.
I was stunned when Schulz Schmidt reached into his coat and produced a folded sheet of paper. This was a development I had never encountered while playing the game, and it left me feeling completely off-balance.
“That looks incredibly ancient,” I remarked.
“It is. However, it’s been shielded by preservation magic, so the condition remains stable.”
“Preservation magic?”
I knew how exorbitant that kind of sorcery was.
A Pneuma held a status akin to a top-tier university professor in my previous world. Even with that kind of income, the cost of such magic was staggering. It explained why his clothes, while tidy, looked somewhat worn; he must have funneled every spare coin into maintaining this single document.
He had sacrificed his lifestyle to keep this paper intact forever.
I reached out and took the page from him.
“Is this written in the Ancient Tongue?”
“It is. Are you capable of deciphering it?”
I hesitated. While I had picked up some of the language through game puzzles, I was far from an expert. After scanning the text intensely, I looked up.
“I can’t give you a full translation right now. Honestly, I’m only confident about the opening line.”
“That would be more than enough!”
Schulz Schmidt’s usual composure vanished, replaced by a desperate urgency. It was a side of him I hadn’t expected to see.
It was actually quite fascinating to see a normally stoic, handsome man lose his cool like this.
The first sentence was clear enough for me to grasp, so I read it out loud.
“To the fragment of myself… that has been… severed from… my form.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“That is what the opening says.”
“That cannot be right. You must have misread the symbols.”
I blinked, refocusing on the parchment as if I could burn the meaning into my mind.
“To the fragment of myself that has been severed from my form.”
Silence followed.
“That’s definitely what it says,” I insisted.
He didn’t respond.
“Schulz Pneuma? Sir?”
“It makes no sense… He wouldn’t have written such words…”
I watched him, confused by his reaction. In the game, Schulz Schmidt was famously frigid. Even Coriko, who managed to melt the heart of the icy Grand Duke Assis Frazier, could never get Schulz to crack a real smile in any of the story branches. At best, he would offer a faint smirk.
He was a man who buried his feelings deeper than anyone, even more so than the Grand Duke, who eventually found joy in his new granddaughter.
Yet here he was, visibly trembling.
My curiosity was piqued, and since I had access to a cheat system, I decided to use it. I pulled up his information window.
[System: Profile]
Schulz Schmidt (26)
- The youngest Pneuma in history.
I skimmed through the biographical details I already knew and scrolled straight to the bottom.
- The truth he is concealing is… (View More)
Without a second thought, I focused on the ‘View More’ button, desperate to understand the secret behind the letter.
Then, a prompt appeared.
[! Warning: 200 coins required.]
[! Warning: Insufficient balance to unlock ‘View More’.]
I nearly shouted in frustration.
My eyes went wide, but the annoying notification remained hovering in my vision.
Since when did this become a paid service? It had been free this entire time! Was the system just hooking me with a trial period?
I was fuming. I tried to force the button open several more times, but the result was the same.
[! Warning: 200 coins required.]
[! Warning: Insufficient balance.]
You absolute swindler.
If the system had a physical form, I would have throttled it right there. Because Schulz Schmidt was watching, I had to swallow my rage and keep a neutral face.
“My apologies, Miss Tulia. I became lost in thought and ignored your presence.”
“Oh, please don’t worry about it…”
“Then… perhaps you could stop doing that?”
“Doing what?”
I realized then that I had been audibly grinding my teeth in my irritation.
I let out a heavy breath.
“So, what exactly is the nature of this document?” I asked, shifting back to the matter at hand.
“I must ask that you keep this entirely confidential,” he replied, catching me off guard.
I nodded. “The only person I talk to is Adel.”
“You mean Miss Adel?”
“My head maid. The woman you met earlier.”
A small smile touched his lips. “Ah, yes. She struck me as a woman of great strength and kindness.”
“She is. I’m lucky to have her.”
“Though I suspect that once you make your formal entrance into the capital’s high society, you will be the one everyone is talking about, Miss Tulia.”
He clearly had no idea about Tulia’s reputation as the local terror of the Frazier lands. I just gave him a polite smile, knowing that the spotlight always ended up on Coriko anyway.
“That letter,” he said, his voice dropping, “was the final thing my father wrote before he died.”
“Wait… what?”
My composure slipped, and my voice rose in surprise.
His father?
I knew from the game that Schulz Schmidt came from a noble background, which explained his refined but distant manner. I also knew he loathed his father. He hadn’t even gone to the man’s funeral, a fact he’d shared with Coriko with total indifference.
In the game’s lore, Lord Schmidt had been a legendary figure—a brilliant knight who was also a master of the Ancient Tongue and a Pneuma of the White Tower.
Curiously, Lord Schmidt had demanded all his children become knights. Schulz was the only one who defied him, fighting his way into the White Tower to become its youngest Pneuma.
Despite his brilliance, Schulz was always said to be inferior to his father when it came to ancient languages. After their falling out, he lived in isolation until he eventually took Coriko under his wing.
“‘To the fragment of myself that has been severed from my form’ is an archaic expression,” Schulz explained, his voice tinged with regret. “It was used to describe a child one loved above all else.”
He looked down at the paper. “My father never felt that way about me. He likely used such a complex metaphor just to mock my lack of skill.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“Miss Tulia,” he said, focusing on me again.
“Yes?”
“The deal is this: you clearly have a gift for this language. I want you to translate the rest of this letter for me.”
“Sir? That… might take a significant amount of time.”
“You think so?”
“I can definitely do it. It just won’t be immediate.”
I had my Skill Stat, after all. To reach the A-rank ending, I needed to max out those attributes. In the game, a maxed Skill Stat allowed a player to master any language instantly, becoming as fluent as a native just by glancing at a text. That included the Ancient Tongue.
The tension finally began to bleed out of Schulz Schmidt’s expression.
“As long as it is possible, I am willing to wait.”
“I’ll give it my best effort, Teacher,” I said, flashing a bright, innocent smile. “But since you were the one who suggested a deal… I assume you’re ready to hear my demands now?”
